Who I Used to Be
by Lyrical Soliloquy
Summary: Spot thinks about who he used to be. Another angsty one-shot because I had time to write one. Implied Sprace.


**Who I Used to Be**

If I were to tell you who I used to be, you wouldn't believe me. If I were to tell you how I used to live, you wouldn't believe me either. Trust me, it's not you. No one believes me anymore.

A year ago I was the leader. A year ago, everyone looked to me for guidance and support, whether they thought I would give it to them or not. Most of the time, to be honest, I wouldn't even consider helping them out. They were nobody, and I was somebody. Somebody to fear and to listen to. Somebody to envy when you were around them. I was God in my own world, and I loved every second of it. Sometimes, though, I guess you could say that I loved it too much. And that was my ultimate downfall, I think.

I never counted on telling them anything. Honestly, I never did. What I did on my own time was none of their concern. My life was my own, not theirs. I was my own person, my own man, and only one other in all of New York knew my secret fears and desires. It wasn't my fault that the one person I loved wasn't who everyone else wanted.

We met by the pier. I used to spend all of my time down there, and every so often I would see him. Yes, him. Not her; him. I tell you that it wasn't my fault! Why would I settle for anyone less than me? Would you? I didn't think so. Race, now, Race was equal to me in every way. He and I were, I'd like to think, meant for each other. But as time went on, and we became more and more comfortable with each other, we began to let loose a little, to slack off with stuff like security and making sure that we would never be found out. That, I'll freely admit, was completely my fault.

I should have realized that something was wrong that day. You know that feeling you get when you think something's wrong? I felt it then. Looking back, I should have acted on that feeling right away. I thought that I learned long ago to always pay attention to gut feelings and stuff like that. I guess that the lesson didn't stick as much as I thought. They found us at the pier, under one of the docks. How was I supposed to know that they were going to need me? And how was I supposed to know that they would come to the pier first? If I had had just a few more seconds of warning, we would have been fine. But no, they had to find us just at that very moment. It couldn't have been worse.

Everyone says that hindsight is perfect. They're right, you know. When I look back on that day, I can see each and every one of the mistakes I made standing out like the black eye they gave me when they found us. I completely underestimated my authority with them, and if I had only denied what they claimed, I might have continued to be the leader. Sure, some of them would have left, but enough would have stayed that I could have remained strong. But I didn't deny it. I proclaimed it. I said loud and clear what I was, and what Race was to me. At the time, I thought that I was doing the right thing. Obviously I made a huge mistake, possibly the biggest mistake of my entire life.

Race escaped. The bastard has always been fast. They never caught him, as far as I know. Some part of me still wants him, but I know that he'd never take me back. He blames me, and rightfully so, for what happened. I'm glad that he got away unharmed. Me on the other hand, I wasn't so lucky. The ones that used to fight for me, the ones that I had hand-picked for their strength and their cruelty… well, they soaked me good. Real good. I stayed there, under that dock, for a few days, or at least until I could stand again. Then I got out of there, and I haven't been back since. I won't say that I'm happy to be gone. No, I miss those days with a passion. I'd do almost anything to be back with them, leading the boys to some rally or fighting with them on the streets. But I am happy that there are no more secrets, and that everything is out in the open now.

If I were to tell you who I used to be, you wouldn't believe me. Nobody believes me anymore, and now you know why. I don't really understand, though, because when I told the truth, they believed me. They believed every word that I said. That was not the last time I told the truth, but it was the last time that anyone listened. I'm on my own now, just like I was before I joined in with them. Only now I have something to look back on with regret. I try to tell people what happened, and because most of me is still the proud leader that expects people to listen, I'm stunned and angered by their cold indifference to my plight every time. You'd think I would have learned by now, but I haven't.

Don't think that I've given up yet. I'll never give up. I'm Spot Conlon, damn it, and Spot Conlon doesn't give up. Every day I wake up and tell myself that it's the last day of being alone. One of these days, I'm sure, I'll be telling myself the truth. One of these days, mark my words, I'll again be who I used to be.


End file.
